


Trouble

by pontchamplaint



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Biting, Blood, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontchamplaint/pseuds/pontchamplaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Kowalski is caught in Gary Smith's web of destruction. Whether he's been weaved into it against his will or fastened himself in is anybody's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble

Pete was sat cross-legged on his bed, listening to nothing but the evening breeze. He was deep in thought, knowing full well that he should really be studying or doing something a little more productive than just sitting there. He lurched forward and picked up a black paperback book from his bedside table. As he began to skim the pages disinterestedly his body sagged in boredom. He only perked up when he heard a voice.

"Petey?" A voice that he instantly recognized, calling the bastardized version of his name. He snapped the book shut, almost in a panic as he heard loud, deliberate footsteps move closer and closer towards the his bedroom door. He stood up and almost ran to bolt it but stopped himself and fell back on the bed, sliding the book under his pillow. He waited apprehensively, eyes flickering towards the hardwood floor.

Gary peered into the common room, coming up short, then growled low in his throat. Stomping towards Peter's room, where he was sure he would be, the scarred teen waited at the door. His hand hovered next to the thing separating him and his victim, the tight fist unfolding as he waited. The frown on his face curled into a sadistic grin, and he scratched at the wood before him.  
"Come on, femme-boy, I know you're in there. I want to show you something." He said smoothly to the door, bouncing in his heels with untamed anxiety. After a moment of nothing, he thumped his head against the door noisily, hand wrapping around the knob. He stopped suddenly, smirking to himself.  
"Unless you're doing something personal. I mean, the teenage years are tough, I know." He stood back and waited for a red-faced Peter to bust through the door, not really caring what he did but hoping that he hit a nerve. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his grey slacks and rocked on the balls of his feet.

Pete placed a firm hand on the faux silver door-knob, ready to slam the door shut if things got too much for him. Of course, he knew that if he was to slam the door in Gary's face, which he was rather tempted to do, he'd still be forced to go along with whatever Gary wanted of him and would probably get a black eye for forcing the sadist to go to more trouble for him. He looked up at him nervously, cursing his height. He hated how he always had to look up at Gary.  
"H-hey Gary." He tried to speak casually but failed, instead grabbing the hem of his pink dress shirt and kneading it pathetically.

Immediately, the older male wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulders, dragging him out of his room and towards the exit. He had a genuinely contented smile on his face, pushing the door open and releasing his captive so that he wouldn't have someone behind him as he descended the stairs.  
"I need you to keep watch for me." Gary explained as they went, walking backwards so that he could address the smaller male more directly.  
"I'm breaking into the toad's office." Motioning to the principal's office illustrated his point, his other hand stuck into his pocket.  
"You," the sadist jabbed Pete in the chest, "get to stand outside his door while I raid it. Sound like fun?" He wasn't really asking.  
Regardless, the older male stopped at the climbable wall, shooing his frail companion with a flick of his wrist and gazing up at his prize. As though Pete had never been there, he checked for authority figures, chuckling when there were none, then began to scale the vine-covered structure. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, but he wrote his sudden strength off on mania, slipping through the window that the principal had left open. Gently, he tapped on the door into the hallway, pressing his ear to it in case Pete had trouble finding his voice. When he was confident that his captive was there, he opened the door and stuck his head out.  
"Come on, sissy."

Pete clambered in after Gary. He was absolutely terrified but admittedly rather excited too. He'd never done anything like this before and - in a sense - breaking rules made him feel slightly rebellious. Just the notion of being caught sent his heart racing. He thought of the punishments this could entail. Detention, his parents being called - even expulsion.

He swallowed quickly and tried not to let Gary notice his nerves getting the better of him. Gary was motioning towards the door and Pete found his feet dragging him along. Occasionally he would stop and look back at his captor, who was almost jumping around in glee as he beheld a group of large, rusty metal filing cabinets. Pete wrinkled his nose and continued down the small corridor, stopping when he saw that Miss Danvers stood at her post in the office. He took a deep breath and stood a few inches away from the entrance, every now and again catching a glimpse of Gary in the study, though he had no idea what he was doing.  
Frankly, he didn't really want to know.

Gary huffed over-exaggeratedly, turning back towards the office he had snuck into and rounding the large desk. He tried the drawers, coming up short, then turned his attention to the filing cabinet to his right. His clinical stare turned into a maliciously gleeful expression, and he tugged it open. There it was, in all of its intimidating glory, his confiscated BB gun. Of course Crabble-snatch had taken it from him - he was a terror - but he wanted it back, and Gary, on principal, got what he wanted. Slipping the toy into the back of his pants like he had seen in gangster movies, he let his white dress shirt and Bullworth vest conceal it. There was nothing else of interest in the filing cabinet, so he slipped out of the dark room and closed it with a very gentle click, sneaking towards his visibly shaking companion with incomprehensible glee.

Gary glanced into the woman's office, scanning it over in a split second, then bounced across the illuminated strip of danger, almost colliding with Pete as he did. There was nothing but a smoothly-corrected stumble, and he dragged the smaller male down the halls, patrolled by prefects with flashlights shimmering with the promise of punishment. Gary couldn't resist. He pulled the toy gun out from its hiding place and pressed it to his companion's temple, grinning in the dim light of the hallway.

"Freeze." He cooed, one hand wrapped tightly around Pete's wrist, the other holding the gun that wasn't deadly but would have hurt like a bitch if he didn't resist the itch in his index finger.

The sadist walked them towards the nearest bathroom, managing - though some miracle - to avoid the prefect by just an inch with the other male trapped in his clutches, and huffed with his back against the closed door. He held out the little weapon, painted realistically, to show off his prize. There was a dangerous smirk on his lips.

Pete's eyes became wide with horror the moment he spotted the weapon in Gary's hand. His captor loosened his grip on Pete's arm and pushed him to the ground. He fell onto the cheaply tiled, sticky floor, cowering at the sadist's feet. He made an active attempt to scurry into a corner but Gary put his foot in Peter's path, smirking. His eyes were bright as he continued to twirl the gun between two hands mockingly. Pete placed a hand on a sink and stood up. His legs were shaking in fear.

"I... Don't hurt me." Pete said, a pathetic little whimper that made Gary sneer.

"I saved my allowance for this month. You can ha-have it!" He knew that Gary wouldn't want his money, his eyes wet with pathetic tears. 

"Shit, Petey, don't cry." Gary said, though his voice was void of worry.

He stepped forward, heavy boots thumping loudly on the tiles, until his captive was trapped against the sink. Like he would even attempt escape. He wondered for a moment if he should tell the shivering teen that the weapon wasn't real, but the absolutely terrified look on his face made his stomach tighten, so he decided almost immediately against it.

"You better do as I say, or I'll blow your brains out." He was close, a bit closer than he knew Pete was comfortable with, and he had to hold back a spiteful laugh. The older of the two brushed the BB gun tauntingly against his face, pressing closer, breathing in the fear that was practically dripping from his pores. Fear. He pressed the gun at lips that were redder than they should have been, opening his own mouth to demonstrate his desire, then glanced at the still-closed door with a flash of paranoid anxiety. It faded almost immediately, and he was wiggling the plastic firearm into Pete's mouth with furious impatience.

Tears were streaming down Pete's face but he was not making a single sound. He was paralyzed with fear. His eyes were becoming unfocused and everything was blurry; including the firearm that Gary was holding. It looked metal. Gary held it like it weighed quite a bit.  
"I... I... You want me to...?" When Pete finally spoke, he decided to look up at the sadist for reassurance, confirmation, just fucking _anything_.

Pete pressed his hand lightly to his own mouth and bit down, and his eyes flickered once again towards the bathroom door. He was a fast runner; He could make it, if he really tried.

"Open wide." Gary started, following his shifting gaze to the door and frowning dangerously. When he saw that Pete wasn't going to immediately comply, he wrapped one of his hands around the back of his captive's head, baring his teeth threateningly and glaring down at him.

"Open your fucking mouth, you little shit!" He snarled, rage making his body flood with heat.

He was closer to the other male, their fronts almost touching. When there wasn't an immediate success, Gary lost his patience, using the hand on the back of Peter's head to wrench open his jaw by the chin, shoving the weapon into the wet cavern before him. He pushed it as far back as the trigger guard would allow him, pulling back enough to allow his victim to catch his breath, then went in again with a sick grin. The motion was phallic in nature, but he was simply intent on the humiliation, the embarrassment, perhaps succeeding in making Pete gag.

"You know what would happen if I pulled the trigger, eh, femme-boy? Your thoughts, all over the mirror." He purred into the ear that was exposed to him, having moved that much closer and stooped to Peter's level.

Now Pete's crying was audible. His hands were clawing at anything he could get into his grasp. Pete would gag heavily with every other movement. When the sadist spoke, he grimaced and attempted to speak but instead let out a high pitched whine. The sound made him cringe. He was so humiliated and the constant gagging was painful. He felt physically ill. He could see himself in the mirror, how pathetic and terrified he looked. He knew Gary loved seeing him like this, the look on his face was that of pure psychotic delight.  
As Gary plunged the firearm into his mouth again, Peter bit down hard on it, quelling any further motion. He gave Gary a look, a glance of defeat and began to suck on the hunk of bitter tasting material in his mouth. His eyes flickered closed as he began to tongue the shaft of the intruding object that made him feel faint.

Gary's smile dropped. He held the weapon still, watching Pete move his mouth around it with a strange kind of skill. It made his fingertips numb, a scar on his neck tingle, his chest flutter. He watched with confused interest as the tear-stained cheeks concaved around his newest torture device, _Peter's cheeks_ , and he couldn't help that the very thought made his knees threaten to buckle. Slowly, he pulled the gun away and eyed it with a ploy of disgust, as though he didn't actually expect for Pete to comply with the humiliating task, then he tilted his head and turned his attention to the gently sobbing teen in his grasp.

"Where'd you learn to do that, huh? You give lots of blow jobs?" The surprised expression he had was twisting into a grin, and he trailed his calloused fingers up to the effort-plump lips he couldn't take his predatory eyes off of.

"I bet you do, Petey. I bet you love it, too." There was sadistic thrill behind every word, and the gun was discarded in the sink that Gary knew was out of his captive's reach. There were calloused lips crashing to Pete's; hard and forceful and rushed. A tongue darted out, a hand on the smaller male's jaw again, and the wet muscle slipped into his mouth, prodding with an intrusive kind of aggression.

Pete stood rooted to the ground as Gary's tongue explored his mouth. His eyes were open again, watching the taller male kiss him possessively, even passionately. His mind was racing, racing with every thought of how Gary was vulnerable and how easy it would be to escape. And so, when Gary withdrew for air, he ducked under the sadist's clutches using an arm that was tightly holding onto one of the many porcelain sinks in the bathroom and ran for the door. Gary was not an idiot. He had anticipated an escape-plan. A foot was casually laid out in front of Pete's path and the smaller boy crashed head-first into the floor.  
Pete looked up at Gary, reaching out a hand to cover his nose, currently gushing with blood. He looked at Gary as if he were trying to read him. Sitting up with on one arm, he managed to speak in a barely audible tone.  
"You're sick." He didn't really know why he said it, but he knew Gary heard him.

At first, there was a smug kind of success, then Gary’s smirk melted into an enraged frown. He looked his victim up-and-down, glanced at the door, then took the gun from where it was resting innocently at his side. Smiling at his new leverage, he stepped over Pete's form, kicking the arm he was using for support out from under him. The sadist fell to his knees and straddled the smaller male's stomach, the gun waving in front of his face again.

"Fine, I won't be nice anymore." He snapped through a newly-found smirk, his unused hand brushing over the untouched flesh of Pete’s throat.

He wanted to leave marks with every fiber of his being, so he pressed the gun against the smaller male's jaw, forcing his face up, the back of his head against the floor. He wiggled lowed on his knees, dipping down and pulling the hammer of the gun back until it clicked. He was thankful that his parents could afford such sophisticated, expensive toy weaponry. His teeth dug into the sensitive flesh, tongue not even meeting his skin, keeping to his dangerous threat and laughing against Peter's neck.

It hurt. It hurt so damn much but Pete couldn't scream. Or yell. Or do anything, really, but lay there in the dirty paws of the psychotic creature. He could sob quietly but Gary's loud laughter drowned it out. He guessed this was his punishment, that - in a previous life - he must have really fucked somebody over. Or maybe whatever deity was in charge of everything had some sort of vendetta against him.  
It had taken him this long to realize that he was merely this sadistic creatures play-thing. That's all he'd ever been. He was a fool to think that Gary valued him as a friend. As Gary continued to bite flesh and hit him, abuse him as he continued to add more and more bruises, cuts, and marks to his body, Pete managed to catch Gary's attention. He pushed the sadist off him and surprisingly, Gary didn't try and jump him again. His hand still clutching a loose piece of fabric from Pete's dress shirt, like an owner holding their dog’s leash, Pete fell against a roughly tiled wall. Chestnut hair a mess, clothing ruffled and covered in a mix of sweat, saliva, and blood, he licked his lips subtly.  
"Do what-whatever the hell you want with me. I won't run." A strand of saliva fell from his lips. "I... I don't care... Anymore."

Gary flopped onto his heels informally, fabric making a shrill noise as it was torn from the smaller male's body, caught between the sadist's teeth. He listened to the defeated, pitiful words, tilting his head and pursing his reddened lips with mock-empathy. He scooted forward on the dirty floor, trailing his hand down the torso he had been ravishing, then huffed. It was no fun if he didn't fight back, so he decided to change tactics. The gun clattered loudly as it hit the wall opposite them, and the sadist brushed his thumb over the open wound on the nape of Peter's neck.

"What if I did what you want? What would you like, femme-boy?" Taunting. He brushed his hand over the front of the smaller male's pants, using his other hand to undo the button.

His teeth hit the purpling flesh of Peter's neck again, but they retreated, and his lips enfolded over the battered skin. His tongue lapped out, an animalistic kind of apology, and he slipped his hand with aggression he couldn't refrain from, groping his captive with rolling fingers.

Pete began to make choked moaning noises in his throat. He was tempted to grab the hand that was assaulting him and push it away but decided against it. He chose to close his eyes, leaning his head against the wall as he debated his next move, like a complex game of chess that he was going to lose at anyway.  
"Okay, then, I do want something." He swallowed hard and looked at his displaced hand hanging lamely at his side. "I want you to hurt me. Burn me, kill me, stab me; I just want to feel pain." He looked at Gary as the last flicker of defiance in his eyes vanished. Gary hadn't stopped the movements of his hands or the movement of his lips over scarred, battered skin and for a moment Pete wondered, even in his current state, if he even heard him.

"Pain comes later." Gary promised, hot breath in the smaller male's ear, and he wiggled between Pete's thighs, stroking with rough, deliberate movements, enthralled that his flesh was reacting so easily to his touch.

He moved his mouth with stinging little bites up Pete's jaw, finding his mouth and crashing his own against it, just as he had before. He grunted against the tight lips, his hand moving more quickly, and the other limb tugged on khaki pants. He was lapping at Pete's lips, sharp brown eyes stabbing into the hazel ones before him, so broken and shattered he could eat him alive. The thought made another noise escape his throat, caught in the one-sided kiss. Gary pulled away, his shoulders heaving with strain. The pants that he was yanking on were discarded, and his torso crashed against the wound-dotted one before him.

Pete attempted to move against his attacker. Every movement, however small, seemed a challenge and he winced as the pain his aching limbs were currently providing with finally outran the small amount of pleasure that Pete was feeling. Gary was weighing him down and Pete was letting him. His eyes had been dry for a while now. His conscious was empty and he felt like Gary was controlling him. A desire to move against the sadist would come suddenly and out of nowhere, accompanied, of course, by a dark, knowing smirk. He managed to pull his chin up and reach Gary's neck. Hot breath ghosted over sensitive, scarred flesh. He looked up at the sadist, eager to see his reaction as his teeth headed towards pale skin.

"Hng... Don't do that." Gary demanded, but he didn't sound very threatening.  
His thumb brushed over the tip of Peter's arousal, and he sat on his heels again, grinding against his captive through his pants. His neck craned and he wordlessly offered Pete his throat, releasing the arousal and tugging on Peter's hips.  
Gary felt an unbelievable amount of lust. He was torn between careful teasing and aggressive, painful fucking, wanting both but knowing it was impossible. Instead, he rocked against the naked teen below him, forehead against the wall above Peter's head.

"Do you still want pain?" His words were ragged but still sharp and taunting.

Pete had to consider this for a moment. He looked up at Gary with heavy eyes and shuddered slightly.  
"I... N-no. I don't know." The submissive side of him was faltering. He didn't know exactly what he wanted. Blinking slowly, he turned his head and stared blankly at the wall next to him. He was scared of looking at Gary. He was just scared of Gary. He knew that if he really wanted him to, he could let Gary ruin his body and his soul. And it took him a moment to realize that actually, he would be okay with that.  
"... Yes."

It didn't matter to Gary either way. He had absolute control, Pete didn't seem to be fighting with him over it, and his body was demanding, but he still had his head. There were options he had to consider, and his logical mind was fading in and out of clarity.  
Grunting unhappily at his indecisive brain, he undid his pants and pressed tauntingly against Peter's entrance, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes. He had to remind himself that he didn't care, thrusting forward roughly, with nothing but friction. He shivered at the pain, the tightness, the ragged cry that left his victim's lips. It was God-like.

When Pete felt the pain, a pain like no other that he had ever felt before, he thought that Gary had stuck a knife inside him. Ignoring all the other little pains, he sobbed out loud and screamed so loudly that Gary had to put a hand over his mouth to muffle his yelling. Through tear-filled eyes he saw Gary, but he turned away, biting down on the elder boys intruding hand. He smacked his leg against a urinal hard and began to cry like a child.  
"Pl-please!" Gary's hand was still in the way of Pete's mouth, muffling his speech.

"You asked for it." Gary pulled away nonetheless, the hand that was muffling his broken noises holding strong as his other hand found its way to his mouth.  
He made an effort to make it lurid, lapping and sucking at his fingers in an effort to distract his victim. Apparently, he wasn't prepared enough for a dry fucking, but it was alright, Gary could wait. The makeshift muffle left the still-gaping mouth and made its way to Peter's arousal, stroking. It wasn't as good when the other party didn't enjoy themselves. His other hand, the one with three slick fingers, found the abused hole that he was intent on tearing apart later on, one finger finding its way inside and prodding along the walls. He watched Peter's expression carefully, waiting for any sign of pleasure as he searched.

Pete couldn't deny the pleasure. Yet at the same time, his head was aching and his nose was throbbing. His hole stung, and Gary's finger - tapping purposely along his walls - didn't help matters. He was sure he could feel blood at his entrance, but he ignored it and stared at the ceiling. The bright light was screwing with his eyesight. Pete mused that the pleasure was somewhat forced. He wondered if this was a normal thing to feel during carnal interactions. He could hear Gary muttering something but paid no attention. He was just forcing himself to zone out from the abuse he was currently suffering. And like Gary said, he had asked for it. It was his fault. It was all he deserved, at the end of the day.  
He reached down and touched Gary's wrist, but he batted the hand away and thrust another finger in for good measure. A few tears dropped down Pete's face and he accidentally bit his tongue from the shock of it all.

Gary was almost ready to give up. He was preparing to retreat his fingers and fuck the writhing teen into the floor, consequences be damned, but his prodding was successful; he had found it. The sadist's angry grimace turned into a pleased grin, and he attacked the little bundle of nerves on Pete's insides roughly with both of his fingers. At that point, stretching was inconsequential, and the older teen was content to watch him writhe like the prissy bitch he was, mouth agape, limbs pattering around to find purchase on anything.  
He slipped another finger in beside the others, his arousal becoming hard to ignore, and he stopped stroking, thrusting roughly with his fingers. He didn't care to ask for permission, the whorish way the smaller male was groaning was enough, and he removed his hand again, positioning himself properly.  
Peter was a wreak. He was hardly human, in a pitiful heap on the bathroom floor, sprawled around like something out of a violent pornography. Gary bit his bottom lip and watched the pained expression on his face, shoving forward with much less friction than before, but still enough to be painful. If it wasn't painful, it wasn't worth it.

"Look at me, Petey." Gary demanded with a breathy yet dangerous tone, both of his hands planted firmly on his hips, holding him there.

Whatever Gary's ultimate goal was, Pete knew that he had been successful. He couldn’t resist any more, and Gary knew. A part of Pete hated himself for reacting to sadistic torture but the other half was just begging to be ripped in two. A pair of hazel eyes looked up into a pair of smaller ones.  
"W-what? I don't... I can't..."

Gary snaked one of his hands under Pete's arched back, lifting him up and thrusting forward roughly. He huffed and pulled back, moving forward hard enough to force his captive into the wall, feeling something sticky on the top of his thigh. The position the sadist pulled him into provided Pete with the last bit of pleasure he needed. With a loud, drawn out whine, he reached the brink, grinding against the older boy who was violently embracing him with pained, embarrassed need. He felt his body droop slightly in the aftermath and his head fell onto Gary's shoulder softly. Gary continued to move.

"Don't fall asleep on me, now." Gary growled out, scratching at the smaller male's thigh as he tightened his hold on Pete's midsection.  
He moved faster, scooting back so that Pete was dropped unceremoniously onto the dirty floor. He wrapped one of his arms under Peter's knee, bending the leg backwards.  
"You fall asleep, I'll strangle you." The warning was spoken matter-of-factly, his gaze sharp ice.

Gary tugged on the battered limbs that seemed to be in his way over the smaller teen's head and held them at an awkward angle, the hands bent against the wall, wrists crossed and detained tightly in his grasp. The sadist dug his nails into the hip he had a hold on, shuddering and stooping with a series of frantic motions. He came with a choked-back sound, falling so that his face landed on Pete's chest, releasing his grip.

 


End file.
